


can't stay in the shallows

by kirargent



Series: it comes and goes in waves [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Sports, Athletes, Drinking, M/M, Minor Allura/Romelle (Voltron), Party, Swimmer Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 05:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19717144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirargent/pseuds/kirargent
Summary: Keith shows up at a party. Hot Keith. Keith who, Lance has it on good authority, has called Lance “cute.”Lance spends most of the night wingmanning Allura, because he’s a good friend like that. Also, maybe if she has a nice good make-out sesh with a hot cheerleader, she won’t yell at him so much for making them late for drylands when he oversleeps.Overall: a college party. A good one.





	can't stay in the shallows

**Author's Note:**

> looks at all my higher priority projects. opens a new document. what if...................college au?? college athletes au???
> 
> listen i have a MILLION thoughts about this au and like none of them even made it in here, but here's a oneshot because I Am Dying and have no self control.
> 
> I was already going mildly nuts about lance and allura on swim and dive, and then that one art w/ lance & allura n then KL at a party appeared on tumlnr and,, my life ended?? Inspiration for the scene & a little bit of the dialogue are from this awesome art! [SERIOUSLY GO LOOK AT THIS!!!!!!!!!](https://daloochsdoodles.tumblr.com/post/186039406339/college-varcity-voltron-au-wt-swimmerlance) and then [kate](http://happyleakira.tumblr.com) was a ~~bad~~ good influence and a good beta and 3k later here we are.
> 
> title from deep water american authors
> 
> warnings for drinking, swearing, & the standard lowkey consent issues that go along with kissing for the first time at a party while tipsy.

The girls’ swim-and-dive team throws the _best_ house parties. There’s always _so much food_.

Lance grabs an actual goddamn cinnamon roll from the laden table, biting into it as he wanders toward the kitchen. He waves at familiar faces on his way, exchanging a nod with Ryan Kinkade and slapping a high-five with his buddy Hunk.

“Allura!” Lance cries, shouldering into the kitchen.

Allura looks up from the island crowded with an army of glass and plastic bottles, red solo cups scattered here and there. Her pink eyeshadow glitters when she blinks. She grins at Lance, waving a hand covered in rings.

(“Rings are gay, Lance,” she’d informed him seriously one day in their freshman year. “The more rings, the better.”)

“All right,” Lance says, plucking a solo cup from the top of a stack and finding a tiny patch of counter to slam it down. “I’m ready to get well and thoroughly fucked. Make me a drink, Princess.”

Allura’s grin sharpens into a smirk. She places her index finger on her lips, tilting her head to one side. Her thick white ponytail swings.

“What’ll it be tonight, Lance? Vodka? Rum?” She picks up an empty two-liter Coca Cola bottle, wrinkling her nose and tossing it in the recycling bin.

Lance spreads his arms. “Surprise me.”

He ends up with…what tastes like a cup full of cheap vodka with a splash of Sprite and a hint of something fruity. It’s not _good_ , per se, but it’s drinkable, and it’s strong, which is true to form for Allura.

He’s had a couple drinks, and he’s feeling good and floaty by the time a while later when Allura snatches him by the bicep and tugs him out of a yelled conversation with Kinkade about their least favorite professors.

“It’s Keith,” Allura hisses in his ear, pulling him down and leaning up on her tip toes. Music fills the air around them, not too loud to talk over but loud enough to make the air feel thick. It reverberates up through Lance’s bones, which are loose and easy with alcohol. It feels nice. “He actually showed up!” Allura yell-whispers urgently.

“Wait, really? No way!”

But he follows her pointed index finger, a thick curl of metal around it in the shape of a lion’s head, and sees—yep. That’s Keith, all right. Varsity cornerback, mysterious heartthrob loner who never comes to parties, Keith. Sometimes goes to swim-and-dive meets, Keith. Keith, who has allegedly called Lance “cute,” according to Pidge’s research.

“Holy crow,” Lance murmurs.

Allura punches him in the shoulder, a bit too hard.

Lance makes a face at her. “Ow!”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, buck up. Go _get_ him, loverboy!” She shoves him forward ruthlessly, and like, really, who is he to stand up to _Allura?_

Also, she won’t give him a ride to practice on Monday morning if he pisses her off, so. There’s that, too.

Oh, and _also_ , Keith’s wearing a close-fitting, long-sleeved shirt with slim, dark jeans, and he looks even better than the rest of the snacks at this bomb-ass party, so, yeah—Lance goes with minimal complaining.

“Hey, man.” Lance takes a sip of his really-mostly-just-vodka. “Fancy seeing you at a party.”

Keith turns. His dark eyes catch on Lance, and something flicks through them that Lance is too tipsy to decipher.

Keith shrugs, one hand in his jeans pocket and the other holding a beer bottle. “Figured I should show my face in public every once in a while.”

Lance nods serenely. “Right. Lotta pressure being a football god, huh?”

Keith rolls his eyes, and Lance smirks.

“I never understood the football hype, personally,” Lance muses, tapping his fingers on his solo cup. It makes a gentle pattering sound he can just barely hear over the music. The plastic feels satisfying against the undersides of his fingers. “You just put on padding and smash into each other. There’s not much finesse.”

Keith’s eyebrows rise and his jaw falls open. “What!? There’s _so_ much finesse!”

Lance gives him a skeptical, sympathetic look that makes his brow furrow deeply.

“Whatever.” Keith gestures with his beer bottle. “The entire student body seems to prefer football to swim-and-dive, so.”

Lance shrugs one shoulder. “Who cares? I get all the attention I need. Tends to happen when you’re this good-looking.” He grins, sharp.

Keith snorts. “Really? Do _any_ girls show up to watch swim meets?”

Lance licks his lips and lets a smile unfurl slowly. “Who says I only want _girls_ to show up?”

Keith observes him very seriously. His eyes are slightly narrowed, his mouth thin with concentration. His gaze prickles on Lance’s skin; warmth pours through Lance from his head down to his toes, making him vaguely dizzy.

He’s maybe—he’s maybe had a couple too many for such a hot guy to be looking at him so intensely.

“Yeah,” Keith says. He takes a sip of his beer.

 _Lips?_ says Lance’s brain. _Lips!_

“I feel that.”

It takes a second for it to click—and then Lance grins.

“Hey,” he says, bouncing a little on his toes. He’s been filled up to the top with fizzy, excited energy. “On the topic of gays.”

Keith smiles thinly.

“You know Romelle, right? I mean, I’m not assuming things, I just mean, I think I’ve seen you guys hanging out?”

Keith lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know her. Why?”

Romelle is a cheerleader, tall and pretty with long, flowing blonde hair. Allura’s been drooling for _months_.

“Do you think I could get her number for my friend Allura?” Lance asks. His eyes widen. “Shit, do you think you could get her to come to the next girls’ swim party?”

Keith holds out his beer bottle, tapping Lance’s sternum with the butt of it. “Hold this.”

Lance does, raising his eyebrows, and Keith pulls his phone from a back pocket.

“I’ll do you one better,” says Keith, thumbing open his phone and starting to type. “Romelle knows all the female varsity athletes.” He keeps typing, not looking at Lance. “If I tell her ‘Princess’ Allura is here?” He hits ‘send’ and meets Lance’s eyes, edges of his mouth curving with a grin. “She’ll show up before the party’s over.”

Lance goes wide-eyed, his mouth opening. “ _Dude_ ,” he says, reverently.

Keith looks smug. It’s hot.

“I owe you a better drink, man!” Lance hands back the mostly empty beer bottle. “Come on. Allura makes the best drinks if you’re looking to get smashed. Hunk makes _delicious_ ones if you’re willing to take it a little slower.”

Keith shrugs. “Whoever we spot first?” he suggests. Lance grins, and grips Keith’s elbow, and steers him into the crowd in the general direction of the kitchen.

They spot Hunk first. He’s talking animatedly with Matt Holt, his eyes alight and his arms moving in broad gestures.

“Hunk!” Lance says. He’s tipsy, and he loves Hunk, so he throws a jubilant arm around Hunk’s waist, leaning into his side.

Hunk laughs, dropping an arm onto Lance’s shoulders. “Hey, buddy. You’ve had Allura making you drinks, huh?”

“Shut up,” says Lance, grinning.

“Okay,” Hunk says, freeing his arm. “Water for you, buddy.” He glances at Keith. “Did Lance promise you I’d mix you a drink?”

Keith looks apologetic. “Yeah. But don’t worry about it, man. I can get him a water.”

But Hunk is an angel, and anyway, Lance knows he loves testing out new drink recipes, so he just shakes his head and escorts Lance and Keith to the kitchen, where he begins questioning Keith on his favorite flavors while Lance leans against the island and downs a couple glasses of water. It doesn’t like, magically sober him up, but it makes his head feel a bit clearer.

With a red cup in Keith’s hand, a glass of water in Lance’s, and a request from Hunk to send in anyone willing to let him try out recipes on them, Lance and Keith head outside.

It’s quieter outside, though only slightly, and cooler, but not much. A slight breeze brushes Lance’s warm cheeks. A haphazardly shaped circle of swim-and-dive girls clusters on one side of the yard; varying sized clumps of people stand chatting here and there.

Keith sits on the porch steps, and Lance perches two stairs above him, resting his feet on either side of Keith. He sets down his water glass and folds forward, leaning over Keith’s right shoulder. It puts his face _very_ close to Keith’s, which sends warm excitement thrilling out all the way into Lance’s extremities.

“Romelle say anything?” he asks, pitching his voice steady and calm next to Keith’s ear.

Keith blinks like he’s startled, but he doesn’t tense up or shift away or anything. Lance suppresses a grin.

Keith pulls his phone from his pocket. The screen is bright in the half dark of the backyard. Several new message notifications crowd the screen: all are from Romelle. Lance can see Keith’s grin from the corner of his eye, very close to him. His heart tugs excitedly.

Keith flicks open his phone and angles it for Lance’s easy viewing.

 _Oh god!!!!!_ says the first text.

Then: _KEITH!!!!!!!!_

Then: _Jesus mother of fuck what the fuck do I fucking WEAR!?!?!?_

Lance raises his eyebrows. “She’s got a hell of a mouth on her, for a cheerleader.”

Keith snorts. “You have no idea.”

“She and Allura are gonna hit it off great,” Lance says, not taking his eyes from the three pulsing dots at the bottom of Keith’s messages with Romelle.

 _Ok_ , comes the newest text. _Do you know how long she’s gonna be there? Is she leaving soon?_

Keith turns his head just barely to direct a questioning look at Lance.

Lance shakes his head. “Tell her not to worry about it. Allura’ll stay the whole night.”

 _Not leaving soon_ , Keith types back.

Feeling sober enough to control his brain and his body but still granted an easy, lazy confidence by the alcohol, Lance rests his chin on Keith’s shoulder. He can feel the way Keith’s breath catches, then evens out. He swallows a smile.

The dots ripple.

 _Ohhhhhh god_ , says Romelle.

 _Okay. I’m omw_.

She sends a cringey-face emoji.

Keith grins, right next to Lance’s face, and boy, does that make Lance think about kissing him. Lance leans back, easing up on the mega-dose of Keith he’s currently exposing himself to. He can kiss Keith later. He is _not_ gonna get distracted and miss the look on Allura’s face when fucking _Romelle_ shows up at this random girls’ swim party.

He lets his right forearm replace his chin on Keith’s right shoulder, giving himself a little distance but not removing contact entirely. He presses his legs in tighter, too, inner calves bumping Keith’s elbows. It’s a casual, insignificant place to touch, but the fact that it’s Keith he’s situated this close to has energy zipping through all of Lance’s nerve endings.

“D’you know how far she lives?” he asks, voice low because he’s still leaning in close to peek at Keith’s phone over his shoulder.

“Campus,” says Keith. He licks his lips. Lance watches. “Ten minutes?”

Lance nods. “Nice. I think Allura was in the living room. If we chill by the back door just before ETA, we should be able to see the whole thing.”

Keith shakes his head, grinning. “Are you always this…” He waves a hand.

“Nosy?” Lance offers. “Aggressive?”

Keith just nods.

“Keith. My man. Have you _met_ gay girls?”

Keith’s brow furrows.

Lance rolls his eyes. “I don’t know about Romelle, but Allura is _hopeless_ when it comes to approaching girls.” He grins, smug. “I’m kinda her wingman.” Then, blinking, he points a finger at Keith. “Don’t tell her I said any of that. She _will_ kill me and make it look like an accident.”

“Well,” Keith says, smiling drily, “we can’t risk that.”

“ _Thank_ you,” says Lance.

“Mm,” says Keith. He holds his phone in his left hand, using his right to grab Lance’s sleeve and pull, until Lances elbow slides past Keith’s shoulder and he lurches forward, arm draped firmly over Keith, so that they’re nose to nose.

Lance’s eyes widen. The amusement in Keith’s eyes and the slight bend of his mouth give more the suggestion of a smirk than the real thing.

“You wanna wait by the door?” Keith asks, voice quiet.

Lance blinks a few times. Keith is searingly warm, and his eyes are big and dark and nice, and the curve of his nose is. Interesting. Lance is curious to see how their noses would line up if he were to press his mouth to the half smirk shaping Keith’s lips.

Lance swallows. He says, “Yeah.” He clears his throat and stands up, the cool night air rushing in to fill the space that used to be filled by Keith.

The back door is standing open, so it’s simple to lean against the frame on either side, cradling drinks and stealing glances at the front door and at Allura on the tiny, makeshift dance floor in the living room. Lance tries not to just blatantly stare at Keith, but it’s kind of a tough ask. He’s got really nice shoulders. Broad and shit. Probably not as wide as Lance’s, but still sturdy. Good for leaning on.

Lance looks over every time the front door opens, but each time it’s some random dude he doesn’t know. He looks back at Keith’s nice shoulders while Keith is distracted by the door.

Finally, the front door opens, and it’s a tall girl with wide eyes and a waterfall of golden hair. Lance takes in what Romelle has chosen to wear. Slowly, brow furrowing, he grins.

He hears Keith laugh. “Yeah, I thought she might wear that.”

Romelle’s wearing black leggings, black boots, and a cream-colored t-shirt that says in block letters: “Mean Lesbian.”

“She likes to wear that to parties to fend off straight guys,” says Keith. “And so that girls will hit on her.”

Lance finds Allura, who has frozen in the middle of the dance floor, drink in one hand, strands of hair loose from her ponytail. Her jaw has actually dropped open.

Lance grins so hard his cheeks hurt. He says, gleefully, “Oh my god.”

Keith chuckles, and oh. Okay, _that’s_ one hell of a sound. Lance feels it in his spine.

Romelle glances around, looking lost. Thankfully, one of Allura’s best skills is helping people out. As Lance watches, grinning, she elbows her way through the crowd and emerges to rescue Romelle.

Lance watches Romelle’s eyes catch on Allura, widen further, and then track all the way down Allura’s pink tank top and loose high waisted jeans, her lips parting like she wants to say something or be kissed or maybe like she’s forgotten how exactly to breathe.

Lance can relate. When he’s done watching Allura guide Romelle off into the kitchen with a bright smile and a hand on her arm, he finds Keith’s eyes on him. He can’t recall quite how the air outside his body is supposed to get down his throat and into his lungs? Huh.

“Lance,” Keith says.

“Uh huh,” says Lance.

A smile flickers on Keith’s face. He pushes off from the doorjamb. “Are we done setting up our friends now?” He takes a step closer. They weren’t that far apart to begin with.

Lance swallows. “Uh huh,” he repeats. He should be an English major. He’s great at this whole ‘words’ shit.

Keith says, “Good,” with just a sliver of a smile. He takes that last step closer, rests his hand on Lance’s jaw, and presses his mouth to Lance’s.

Exhilaration inflates in Lance’s chest, warm and thick and making his throat feel tight with sheer giddy energy. Keith’s mouth is soft; Lance tries out the feeling of pressing his top lip into the crease of Keith’s mouth, and finds he likes how it fits there, warm and snug and softly cradled. Slowly, he pulls back to align their mouths differently, feeling out the shape of Keith’s upper lip.

“Lance,” Keith mumbles, lips moving against Lance’s mouth.

Lance raises an eyebrow without opening his eyes, pulling back enough to speak but not so much that their lips stop touching. “Yeah?”

Keith exhales. It’s warm, and it makes Lance shiver. “I wasn’t…actually planning to stay this long,” Keith admits.

Lance cracks an eye open. “Oh,” he says into Keith’s mouth.

Keith’s eyes are still closed. His forehead pinches. “Yeah. I have a thing? In the morning.”

Lance frowns against Keith’s lips. “Keeeeeith.”

Keith pulls away a little, exhaling a laugh. “Hey,” he says, digging out his phone. “Can I...?”

Lance raises his eyebrows. He looks down at Keith's phone. He says, "Oh!" and then rolls his eyes. “Man, I've gotta set up _everyone_ around here.” He levels a finger at Keith, even as he snatches the phone with his other hand. “You're lucky I'm so smooth. You can get away with not being the smooth one.”

Keith rolls his eyes. Lance ignores this. He taps in his number and ‘Loverboy Lance’ with a blue heart and a wave emoji.

“There.” He tosses back Keith’s phone. “I'm free Monday night, and I'm willing to make plans to be swept off my feet.”

Keith raises an eyebrow, his mouth a half frown. "I'll make plans to...sweep, I guess." 

Lance grins. He shoots Keith with a double finger-guns.

Keith just shakes his head. His cheeks are _maybe_ the slightest shade of pink. It’s hard to tell in the dim lighting.

Keith leaves, because his previously made plans interfere directly with Lance’s brand-new plans of staying here all night and making out with Keith on any flat surface they can find, which is pretty stupid, really. Sighing, Lance returns inside.

He waves at a couple of people as he passes through the living room, though with somewhat less enthusiasm than he’d had earlier in the night. He keeps an eye out for Allura but doesn’t see her on the dance floor.

He heads to the kitchen to refill his water glass, and that’s where he finds Allura. She’s got her back to him and someone’s hand tangling in her ponytail while she presses them against the island.

“Hey, Allura,” Lance says, heading to the sink to fill his water glass. “Hey, Romelle.”

They pull their faces apart, blinking at him in tandem. A smear of Romelle’s shiny lipgloss adorns the skin around Allura’s mouth.

“Lance,” Allura says, voice tight. “Little busy, here.”

“Right, yeah,” Lance says, nodding. He takes a sip of his water and leans against the counter, facing Allura and Romelle. “Sure. It’s just that I just kissed _Keith_ , and I’m kind of freaking out, here.”

Allura stares at him, her mouth open. Romelle watches him quizzically. One of her hands is on the curve of Allura’s lower back, fingers swirling absently.

“He asked for my number!” Lance grips his water glass tightly. “Allura, I think we’re gonna go on a _date!_ ”

Slowly, Allura’s eyebrows rise. “Lance,” she says, deadly calm.

Oh…that’s not good.

Lance swallows. “Yes, ’Lura?”

“Get out.” Her smile is a shade too sweet, her eyes flaring. 

Lance rolls his eyes. “A guy just can’t catch a break, huh? Everyone’s got plans tonight.”

Allura closes her eyes in exasperation. “Lance. I will talk to you _tomorrow_ , okay?”

Lance flaps a hand at her. “Yeah, yeah.” He pushes off from the counter. “Get home safe. And hey, give me a heads up if you’re bringing Romelle with you so I can put headphones in, okay?”

“ _Lance_ ,” Allura snaps, while beside her, Romelle laughs gently.

Lance wiggles his fingers and leaves the kitchen.

“He seems...nice,” he hears Romelle say. He hears Allura snort, and he makes a note to go an indignant tirade about it tomorrow, if he can remember.

Grinning, he opens his phone, letting the music and the chatter and the bodies around him wash by, his focus narrowing to his lit-up screen.

He has a text from an unknown number that just says ‘ _Keith_.’ He saves it to his contacts. If he adds, like, three flame emojis after Keith’s name, that’s just the alcohol talking.

 _Keith!_ he types. _Success! Allura’s too busy making out in the kitchen to talk to me._

Keith doesn’t reply immediately, and Lance chews his lip, fluttering his fingers on the back of his phone.

_You got plans for Monday night, yet? It’s suddenly become very important that I’m too busy going on a date to hang out with Allura._

He taps his foot on the floor. He adds: _Wanna come study in my kitchen? ;)_

Biting down on a grin, he shoves his phone into his pocket and plunges back into the crowd. Maybe he can find Kinkade again, or maybe Hunk will let him wax poetic about Keith’s thighs for a while.

He doesn’t check his phone again until much, much later, when he’s outside with alcohol-weightless limbs under a sky full of spinning stars, ready to call an Uber, go home, stick in his headphones, and pass out.

There’s just the one message.

From: Keith 🔥🔥🔥: _Sounds good. :)_

Lance beams down at his phone.

If he’s about to babble like an idiot about his hot date to his Uber driver—which, knowing Lance, he probably is—he hopes he’s too drunk to remember it tomorrow.


End file.
